For one whole day they
Turned off the internet
And encouraged people
To recall how they met.
A camel trek in Egypt,
By the Tower of Pisa,
A casual chat beside
A supermarket freezer.
Was it just coincidence
On his way to Radio Shack
He met his future partner
Out to buy a Big Mac.
Marching together to
Celebrate Gay Pride,
An eventful encounter
That prevented a suicide.
Long before they realised
Twenty four hours was gone
And the Big Fat Controller
Turned the internet back on.
There was optimism some
New relationships would last
And a slight rise in birthrate
Was confidently forecast.
An exercise in cynicism
To test the whole nation
For its vulnerability to mass
Suggestion and manipulation
The makers of the algorithms
Used the experience as a whole
To refine and extend the means
And bounds of their control.
Yup ... there's no question about it,
I'm talking about sex, and all the
Calamity and comedy that surrounds.
Yet I'm not sure if the destiny will
Defer to the clumsy, or if it will
Remain nerve-racking on all grounds.
Because seriously, it is by far the most
Common and popular topic, that virtually
Everyone is scared to death to talk about.
Starting with the basics, the birds & bees,
Before graduating to STD's, I often
Wonder if the birthrate is in doubt.
This nauseating nervousness stays with
Us always, from the first dance to the
Last nuptial that we profess.
So as long as those butterflies keep
Flittering, we might get lucky with a
Sexual encounter, I guess.
It seems ironic that something so natural,
Can bestow so much anxiety with the
Mere thought of its success.
While we fumble along, sometimes pulling
A loose foot out of our mouth, but who knows,
We've done more with less.
Humanities burden
Something nihilistic is churning on my mind what if strife is embedded in our psyche
normality is war punctuated by peace; the peace is prosperous but wallowing in
the softness concern of female interest love of dogs, making them into soft toys.
This somnambulistic existence brought no inventions and humanity, thanks to
the low birthrate was dying out.
Nature took charge and brought on the devastation the will to survive took priority.
To endure, we had to forgo lax options and be aggressive even if it meant inventing
the enemies.
War brought fore inventions benefiting warmongers but also spilt over to help man in
his daily struggle to make agriculture more efficient.
In the following years, the alternation between wars and peace became a norm, a dream
of lasting armistice unobtainable.
This throwing and towing as we see in Ukraine eventually, it will stop as all wars do
providing if a third-party stop interfering and making the war global.
I can't hear the surf for seal barks
I suspect they are calling all sharks
To end all their woes
By eating their foes
We've not heard the last from Karl Marx!
(THOUGHT FOR THE DAY:
With the declining birthrate and
4-million pandemic deaths, the odds are
one might reincarnate as a cicada with
17-years before your next meal!
We should all be thankful as a nation
For the phenomenon called “gravitational causation”
A strange unknown force
Pushing down during intercourse
Causing an increase in the birthrate in some locations
Don't be afraid
Don't close the door
Don't shut the gate
Please keep the faith
You will be surprise
Just you wait
I can assure you
Jesus won't be late
He will prepare you a soulmate
So there isn't any need for a blind date
You can debate
But I know that Christ is never late
Just you wait
You will be able one day
To increase that birthrate
Until then keep on the breastplate.
Once again I am found
In a world that pretends to go round,
Where we're prescribed
What we are and not allowed to do
Unknowingly, micro dosing cyanide
But I stand here sharing my clear view
A world with no rights
Yet claiming everything’s alright
A paradox to appreciate
Chickenpox to fix the birthrate
I should’ve known from the start
I knew I'd be blown apart
Should've grown alone
Instead I’m left to cry and moan
Wishing away
The fear of today,
Hoping for a pleasing future
Knowing full well that’s no suture...
Well, maybe I’ll be alone
And that’s okay, I condone,
Maybe you’ll follow through
But I’m leaving, and so should you
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